The Biker Bottoms

Avery filed a noise complaint about some bikers, so they come over to tell him off… or maybe they have something else in mind. That means Avery just might get seven minutes in heaven with a studly biker who’s got no choice but to bend over and take what Avery dishes out!

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Read the whole thing here!

When one of the bikers walked towards the campsite late in the afternoon, Avery felt a surge of dread. His friends pushed him to meet the biker, a burly middle-aged type with a beer belly and long, scraggly hair tinged with silver.
You see, last night, the bikers in the next campground over had been so loud that no one in Avery’s campsite could sleep. Avery and his buddies had been talking about going camping together for a long time. It was Avery’s first spring-break that wasn’t drunken and debauched — he felt so mature. They were disappointed to have the trip ruined by a bunch of biker jerks.
So Avery had gone over there and told them to shut up. They laughed at him and threw empty cans of beer, cheered on by one dark-haired biker who wore a thick leather jacket. That man had been an utter drunken jerk. Avery didn’t get mad though — he knew exactly how to proceed. He filed a complaint with the park rangers, and he told them about the littering.
Rangers didn’t care too much about noise, but they cared about littering empty cans of beer. The bikers quieted down after a visit from the rangers late in the night. Avery had been treated like a conquering hero by his fellow college students.
The bikers slept late this morning, then went off hunting or drinking or whatever they did during the day, Avery had no idea (riding bikes presumably, though he hadn’t heard their engines revving). It was now nearly five pm when the older biker approached.
He brought along with him a younger biker, one who attracted Avery’s interest. He was a big burly bear of a man in his early thirties, with thick dark hair and a scraggly beard. He had broad shoulders and a colorful dragon tattoo covering his chest, which was mostly bare, and a snake on his neck. He had a square jaw, and he chewed on his upper lip as the older biker introduced himself. Was this the man who had teased him last night? Quite possibly, but it was hard to be sure; he was in the dark last night, wearing bulky clothes.
“My name Math,” said the older biker, the Southern drawl so thick in his voice that Avery could cut it with a knife. “This here my brother-in-law, Python.”
“Math, Python, nice to meet you,” Avery said. “I’m Avery.”
Math smiled in his avuncular way, but Python just grunted an acknowledgement. He looked at Avery like he was a stack of displeasing medical test results. He straightened the flaps of the leather vest that was all he wore above the waist. His hairy, roughly tattooed chest rested, bare and broad, in the shadows of his vest.
“Be nice, Python,” Math said. When Python didn’t respond, Math slapped him in the back of the head. “Say hello. Use your words, numbskull.”
Python glared at his brother-in-law, and then at Avery. “Hello, Avery.” He spoke with an angry sneer. “You ain’t needta call the fucking rangers on us! You goddamn snitch, you come to us like a man, if you got a problem-“
“Python!”
He bit his lip and looked down at his heavy-booted feet. He shifted some dirt around with one boot. “I’m sorry you had a bout of extreme pansiness, which I see was actually a permanent condition-“
“Python!”
“It is, man, look at him! I ain’t gonna apologize to a lavender lollipop! No offense, sissy,” Python said. He refused to make eye contact with Avery, who snickered at the phrase ‘lavender lollipop’. That was a pretty good burn for a biker.
“Don’t make it seem like you’s too good for that,” Math said. He whispered in Python’s ear, and Python blanched. He looked at Avery then with wide eyes. He gripped Python’s greasy hair and pulled, just hard enough to make Python grunt and flail, though he didn’t try to fight back. Math turned to Avery. “I apologize on his behalf. He gonna play a game wit’ you now. That’ll be his way of sayin’ sorry, since he’s too proud to say it hisself. Come on wit’ us.”
Avery followed, even as his mind screamed not to. He didn’t trust these two bikers. Avery’s friends made plaintive faces as he left — they clearly agreed with Avery’s mind that he shouldn’t go. But Avery went because he was interested and because Python had an amazing body, full of hair and engine grease and scars and tattoos. He wanted to watch the rippling flesh of his back as he walked in front of Avery in pain, with his brother-in-law pulling his hair, dragging him like a caveman back to the bikers’s campground.
As they walked, Math looked behind himself and smiled at Avery. “Don’t worry about Python. He ain’t gonna hurt ya. He’s been clipped. He got two strikes against him. He can’t get in any trouble with the law. That’s why he shut down last night when them rangers came a-callin’.”
“Oh, okay.” That was not entirely reassuring to Avery.
Python’s deep voice rang out. “You ain’t needta tell the rangers-“
“Shut up, you done said that,” Math snapped at him. He threw him into an open tent on the edges of the bikers’s campground. The other bikers looked at Math with quizzical expressions. Math looked to Avery and gestured for him to enter the tent. “Python jerked me off, and he took it in the ass from me.”
Python roared and cursed from inside the tent. “Fuck you, old man! I oughta rip yer dick off-“
Math just smiled. “He did it. Everyone here did it. That’s our initiation. Some gangs do ‘blood-in, blood-out’, but that’s legally risky and there ain’t always someone available who needs killin’. We do ‘cum-in, cum-out’. Well, not ‘out’ cuz no one ever leaves.”
“Really? You guys cornhole… as like, a hazing thing?”
Math nodded. “So I gave Python a choice between saying sorry to you — sorry in a polite, respectful way — or playin’ a little game wit’ you. He chose the game,” Math said. “Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know what that is?” When Avery didn’t respond right away, out of shock, Math explained. “It means you get seven minutes in that tent with Python. He’ll do anything you want in there for seven minutes. You can cornhole the pride right outta his ass, if that’s what you want.”
“Really?!”
Python called out from inside the tent. “Fuck you, old man!”
“So whatchoo think, Avery?”
“Uh… Fuck! Okay,” Avery said.
“You’ll forgive us for makin’ noise last night?”
“Hell yeah!” Avery said. The other bikers laughed at his enthusiasm, which made Avery blush. He crawled into the tent as the other bikers crowded around cheering. It sounded like they rather disliked Python, who had been the loudest one last night — he had been the one who teased Avery and got the others involved. They had all been too drunk to care about being loud (Math must have already been asleep), but it was Python who had gotten mad, and, it seemed, stayed mad.
Avery quickly stripped off his own clothes. Python still wore his pants and leather vest. When Avery started to take the vest off him, he didn’t cooperate. His arms remained at his sides, and Avery struggled to get the vest off. Then he kissed Python on his back, which had just a slight covering of peach fuzz above an iron cross tattooed on the meat of his shoulder.
“Make ‘im moan, Avery!”
When his fingers began caressing Python’s muscles, Python twitched as though it hurt. He hung his head. Avery would have enjoyed giving him a massage, but he only had seven minutes and he wanted to use his time effectively.
So Avery stood as best he could in the tent. He wasn’t tall, so he only had to stoop a little bit. His fat pale dick was already rock-hard. He took Python’s callused hand — with the words FUCK and COPS tattooed on his knuckles — and wrapped it around Avery’s dick. Python shuddered, looked away and began stroking.
Avery flopped his dick against Python’s face, and he jerked and twitched. For a moment, Avery thought Python would attack him. But he held back, just flailing for a moment as though Avery’s dick was painful.
“You fightin’ back in there, Python? You know you can still apologize. You could be a man and own up to yer mistakes.”
But it seemed Python would rather do anything than apologize. Instead he cracked his mouth open. His square jaw trembled like he had to force his muscles to do it. His handsome face was tense, turning red and beading up with sweat.
“Oh, that won’t do. You’ll have to open wider than that,” Avery said, loud enough that the bikers outside could hear. They laughed and Avery forced Python’s jaw to separate — it wasn’t much “force”, of course, since Avery was about a third of Python’s size, and Python was already as agape as he could be. Avery just wanted to embarrass him by saying out loud that Python should open wider.
Then Avery pushed the tip of his dick into Python’s mouth. Python loudly choked and gagged, which again made the bikers outside the tent chortle. Someone banged on the side of the tent, the surprise of which triggered the burst of pleasure that coursed through Avery’s body. Python’s warm mouth lapped at his erection, and every time Python gagged, it sent a new wave of sensations up Avery’s spine.
“There it goes, I reco’nize that sound, fo’ sho’!”
“He gaggin’ on it!”
“Make him swaller ya cum, boy!”
The man’s throat was moist and tight, the hairy grizzle on the sides of his chin scratching at Avery’s smooth thighs as he humped his dick in. The positioning was very awkward given the size disparity and the short ceiling of the tent. Python had to really work at it to get his head low enough to get his mouth on Avery’s meat, while Avery had to stay stooped over.
Avery was already hard even before they started, but it didn’t take long before his dick throbbed in Python’s throat, precum leaking down his gullet. Python kept one tattooed forearm over his belly as though forcing his body not to reject the cock in his mouth.
“Move your tongue around some more,” Avery said, giggling nervously.
Python gurgled angrily but did as he was told. He slathered spit on Avery’s cock, sending waves of pleasure through Avery’s body. Avery was so aroused his knees went weak, and he clutched Python’s head for support, while Python’s muscles all tensed and rippled through him holding back violent gags.
“Sounds like you got a good start in there, Avery. Let me know when I should start timing this!” Math called out with a cackling laugh, slapping one hand on the tent to make it rattle and flap.
Python made a loud retching sound as Avery and the others all laughed. Avery kept his dick in Python’s mouth until Python forced him away. Python coughed and spat pubic hairs on the floor of the tent.
“Damn it, Math! You ain’t been timin’?”
“Nah, I ain’t know you started yet. I-“
“You s’posed to start as soon as he gets in the tent!”
“That ain’t how it works, son. You tell me when you’s ready.”
“I’m fuckin’ ready!”
“Alright, I’ll start countin’ when the second hand reaches the twelve. Go fo’ it, Avery.”
“You ain’t gotta worry about the time then, Avery, cuz Python don’t know how to tell time on one of them circle-clocks.”
The bikers all laughed as though this was an inside joke. Python blushed.
“Get on your knees,” Avery said. He called out to the bikers. “You guys got any lube?”
A bunch of them cackled and volunteered their own supply. As Python sighed and got on all fours, they ran back to their tents and bikes. By the time Avery had worked those leather pants down to Python’s ankles, baring his big hairy ass and a thick cock, someone had unzipped the door to the tent just far enough to throw a tube of lube in. That was followed by about a dozen more half-full tubes.
“That enough?” Somebody called out from outside the rent.
“That’ll get us started,” Avery said. They all laughed again, banging on the side of the tent, which once more made the walls shake like an earthquake.
Python was on all fours, which was a less convenient position than it normally would be because Python was so much bigger than Avery. His ass lined up with Avery’s bellybutton, not his crotch. His asscheeks were much wider than Avery’s entire body, but they were plump, juicy cheeks, not at all flabby or fat. Avery’s hands spread Python’s buttcheeks to each side, baring his tight hole.
Slapping Python’s ass and marveling at its jiggling, Avery made a lot of noise for the benefit of the bikers outside the tent. Python blushed a bright red.
“Lower your hips some,” Avery said after wedging his dick between those hairy, sweaty asscheeks. Python grumbled but did as he was told. He lowered his ass until he was lined up with Avery’s crotch.
They both grunted when the tip of Avery’s dick pushed into Python’s guts. Avery’s grunt was a feminine lilting exhalation, while Python let out a loud oomph that made his biker-buddies chant and clap. Python gasped and clenched down hard. Avery was unable to get any more of his dick in.
“He ain’t lettin’ me in, Math! He’s squeezing me out!” Avery called out. Python shook his head as though Avery was snitching on him to the rangers again.
“Python!”
“Shut up, Math! I’m tryin’! He ain’t got a small dick, man…” Python barked, but he did loosen his ass a bit. “Y’know, if I told Lisa what you made me do, she’d be furious. She’d tell me to tell you to fuck off-“
Someone tossed a cell phone into the tent. It landed on the ground near Python’s face.
“Call her anytime you want.”
“I ain’t gotta do this!” Python yelled. He hung his head as he grunted, hyperventilating to relax his ass. It was not entirely effective, but Avery enjoyed forcing himself into that tight hole.
“No, you ain’t gotta! You could say you sorry. You could decide to stop actin’ like a piece of shit!”
“Nuh-uh, Math, that’s genetic. His daddy was a piece of shit, making Python half-shit himself.”
“He’s proud of his shit heritage.”
“If he ever has some kids, Math, your grandbabies is gonna be one-quarter shits.”
Math murmured something disapproving — Python’s sister was Math’s wife, so Python’s daddy was Math’s father-in-law. But Avery couldn’t hear what he said.
“Don’t you motherfuckers talk about my daddy!” Python roared.
“Do somethin’ ’bout it! Oh wait, you can’t cuz there’s a dick in yer ass.”
But Python just submitted, even as he roared in rage. He lowered his face to the ground, sticking his ass in the air. His cheeks and chest were bright red, and Avery noticed that his dick was hard. Avery reached around to his crotch and stroked it. Python jerked and spasmed like it hurt, but he angled his body to give Avery easier access.
“Fight me then, Python! Come on out here and throw down!”
From the attitude of the other bikers, Avery gathered that they all thought Python was a pussy at heart. They kept challenging him to fights as though they knew he’d never do it.
His broad back was dappled with sweat, muscles rippling beneath his thick flesh. Avery caressed his skin and licked that sweat off where he could reach, which, given Python’s bent-over position, was only about halfway up his back.
As he plowed harder and harder, Avery moved his body further up Python’s frame. Soon Avery had to angle his dick downward, jabbing it in as Python grunted and groaned in pain, and pleasure.
“Ah, shit, damn…”
Then Python’s knees buckled. Avery could feel the pleasure rolling through his body, and Avery knew that Python would never admit that was why he couldn’t support himself any more — the pleasure was too intense.
Python sunk slowly to the ground. He muttered at Math, but it was too quiet for even Avery to hear, much less anyone outside of the tent. Python splayed on the ground of the tent, fingers and toes curling as Avery inexorably humped.
One of his hands remained on Python’s cock, but since Python was on his belly on the ground, it wasn’t easy to stroke him. His dick throbbed in Avery’s fingers anyway, while Avery’s other hand explored Python’s thick-bodied chest and belly. Python winced as he did, like he was ticklish and trying to hide it.
“Hey,” Python whispered as the air filled the sound of revving engines — the bikers were riding in circles around the tent now. Python blushed, and Avery leaned forward as far as he could. Python bit his lip and whispered, “Uh… Don’t tell them motherfuckers I got hard… okay? Tell ’em I couldn’t get hard. You cornholed me, whatever, just don’t tell ’em I got hard wit’ a dick in my ass. I’d never live it down.”
A part of Avery wanted to be mean and vicious, and tell them right now. But of course he couldn’t really, because of the loud engines, and he wasn’t that cruel. Python was submitting gamely, that was enough for Avery. He nodded as Python settled on his side, giving Avery enough space to keep giving him a reacharound.
The zipper flap in the front of the tent was forced lower from outside again, and a long fat cock dangled into the tent. It was thick and tattooed with a smoking bong on the shaft. Outside someone — not Math, a different voice — guffawed.
“You want a taste of that one too, Python?”
“Make him swallow it, Avery, you still got him for three minutes-“
“Now hold up there, that ain’t how this game works. He ain’t a slave.”
“Ah, Math, come on-“
“Nah. You ain’t gotta taste no jizz dick, Python. Unless’n you want to.”
Python roared. He reached up and swatted the dick away, hitting it hard enough that the biker outside roared in pain and withdrew the cock.
“Where his dick at now, Python? Inside ya?”
“Show us on the doll where his dick is at?”
“Shut up, man!” Python screamed. His voice was thready and stilted, as he gasped from both pain and pleasure.
“Answer it,” Avery said with a grin. Python clenched in embarrassment, bit his lip and roared as his friends laughed and cheered him on. Avery shuddered as Python’s ass squeezed his dick, which throbbed, rubbing in and out.
“Where’s his dick at, Python?”
“His dick is… in my ass!” Python yelled. His face was bright red now, his muscles spasming beneath Avery’s touch while Avery’s other hand brought his cock to orgasm.
“Nah, come on, be more specific. Where’s his dick at, Python? You know the anatomy of yer asshole? You got the sphincter — that’s the opening itself, the actual hole — then the anus. That’s the first inch or two. After that, it’s called yer rectum. Is he in yer rectum?”
“Has he hit the prostate yet?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Python screamed out of the tent, so angry now his face was a bright red and he spat on the ground. His voice was hoarse and clipped. His vitriol was interrupted by a climax, which was so sudden it surprised Avery.
Python’s massive body tightened all at once, clenching down on Avery’s dick again. Cum sprayed over Python’s chest and belly, so much it dripped and matted his chest hair to his skin. Python gasped, biting down on the floor of the tent to muffle the sound of his moan.
Avery smiled. He gripped the sides of Python’s belly, rolling him over onto his belly. Python grunted and groaned but didn’t resist, even as his face and chest splashed into the puddle of his own cum that collected there. He gagged, causing a rolling undulation of his muscles beneath Avery’s grip, culminating in his asshole squeezing so tight around Avery’s cock it was like he didn’t want to let Avery go.
But Avery was relentless. He was a good bottom himself, and he knew well how to make sure Python’s body accepted his drilling. Avery pounded his dick as hard as he could, making Python grunt with each thrust of his hips. His balls made a loud slapping sound where they hit Python’s skin.
“You got one minute left, Avery. That enough time? I could give you a timeout if you need it…”
“That’ll do, Math, thanks!” Avery called out. He could already feel his orgasm coming on him.
Speeding up his humping, Avery violently plundered Python’s ass. Python moaned, trying to make it sound like a moan of agony. Python lifted his feet off the ground as he submitted to Avery’s cock.
The most intense orgasm of his life shot through Avery’s body. He squealed like a piggie, which made the bikers laugh as Avery knew it would. He sprayed cum inside Python’s ass, giggling while Python harrumphed like he had no idea that was going to happen. Pleasure shot up and down Avery’s spine, and he threw his head back, digging his nails into Python’s back.
At last it was over. Avery took a deep breath and sighed. He kept his dick in Python’s ass, squirming and making sure it touched every corner of his guts. Python clenched down with his feet and hands, tearing at the floor of the tent as though trying to dig into the dirt.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven!”
Avery wiped up all the cum he could find on Python’s chest. He rubbed his hand all over Python’s face, leaving a slick of cum there. His brownish skin and scarred body gleamed with the layer of semen coating his flesh. He gagged at the scent, and Avery inserted one of his own cum-streaked fingers into Python’s mouth.
“Six, five, four!”
“Aren’t you done?”
“I still got a few seconds,” Avery giggled. He wiggled his dick in Python’s ass, sending shockwaves of pain and post-orgasmic pleasure up Python’s spine.
“Three! Two! One!”
As soon as they reached one, they unzipped the tent and ripped the flap open. Everyone jeered at the sight of Avery’s tiny, smooth body on top of Python’s hairy back. Python crawled towards the door.
Avery really hadn’t intended to remain attached to Python’s ass even after the seven minutes were up, but it all happened so fast. He held on for support as Python climbed out of the tent, stark naked, pushing past his leather-clad biker buddies.
It was only when Python was out and standing up near the tent that Avery let himself slide off Python’s back. His dick plopped out of Python’s ass, making Python sigh in relief. He still blushed though as his friends laughed at him, and someone kept handing him a battered old teddy bear, telling him to point to the spot on the doll where Avery touched him.
Python just stalked away, screaming invective at his friends, promising to tell his sister about it, though it wasn’t clear what good that would do. He headed towards the showering facility on the other side of the campsite. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked, cock swinging in the breeze; the cum drying on his face wasn’t so obvious, since his entire body glistened with sweat. Avery, meanwhile, got dressed.
The bikers didn’t follow Python. Math urged them not to. “You gotta give him a chance to regain his pride, folks. Just leave him alone for a bit.”
“What’d you think?” asked another biker — the one who had put his dick in the tent, Avery guessed based on the voice.
“That was… nice,” Avery said, blushing. “You guys can make noise anytime you want, if that’s how you say sorry.”
“You really enjoyed that, huh?”
“It was definitely seven minutes in heaven…” Avery said with a grin.

The Fireman

Lance is an accountant who appreciates the male form, especially this hunky firefighter named Yoder. He’s a redneck, a macho and a devored fireman, and he’s gonna be willing to bend over and let a twink on top situation develop if it means he gets a full-time role at a fire station!

Can Lance take full advantage of this redneck’s sweat-covered muscle-bound firefighting body?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Lance had never been as nervous as he was when he got behind the wheel of the firetruck. He wasn’t a firefighter. He didn’t even think he was very good at driving his own, ordinary car.
There was only one thing he was good at — accounting. Lance was an accountant, who volunteered his time to the local fire station. That’s why he was there when two of the firefighters on call, Yoder and Walter, got in a fight over a girl. The donnybrook began with a series of harsh insults, continued into a medley of fists and kicks and concluded with a broken nose, a “possible cranial” and a Jackson Pollack of purples and yellows. Yoder was crowing about his victory and Walter was bleeding from the head and on the way to the hospital when the alarm blared.
whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, Benevolent 43 to Pittering and 9 Mile Road, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, Benevolent 43 to Pittering and 9 Mile Road, please copy
Everyone stopped moving. Mosta the firemen were whooping and calling after Yoder’s victory dance. Nobody much liked Walter Law. He was a perfect-jawed blond prettyboy with shoulders and a six-pack and a black eye. Girls loved him, especially hose junkies, cuz he was in the calendar, of course.
Lance had to admit he enjoyed Walter Law’s spread in the calendar too. But Yoder had a certain mullety handsomeness as well. He wasn’t in the calendar cuz he was just a volunteer then, not a full-time firefighter. He was a full-timer now though.
Anyway, due to the fight, there was no one to drive the firetruck — no one except Lance
He initially thought it was a joke when Yoder said he needed to do it, but the alarm was for an actual fire, not an automated alert, at an elementary school. Yoder was under orders to remain in the station until Chief Kettle arrived to handle the fight situation. Lance panicked, knowing he couldn’t bear to be responsible for even the slightest delay, what if there was a real fire at an elementary school and the truck doesn’t show up because Lance the accountant refused to drive it?
So he hustled his bustle down to the garage and jumped into the driver’s seat even before asking if it was a stick-shift (luckily it wasn’t). The firefighters were suited up in gear in mere moments, and Lance, terrified, pulled out into the street, sirens blaring. The truck was surprisingly easy to handle despite being so big. It drove like a silken dream, and cars moved out of the way. That was good because Lance was terrified to maneuver it.
In the end, the drive was simple. The elementary school was right down the street, not many turns to get there, which made Lance breathe a sigh of relief. He did bump into a postal service mailbox, possibly knocked it over, but he thought that would be forgiven.
It turned out there was a fire at the elementary school, but it wasn’t a huge one. It was just a cigarette incompletely extinguished and stuck to somebody’s shoe. Some flooring was scorched, and the playtime mats in one of the classrooms were partially melted. No injuries.
Before Lance knew it, a cop was driving him in a squad car back to the fire station. Lance was still in shock, the sirens still ringing in his ears.
He came into the fire station soon after the arrival of Chief Kettle, a burly middle-aged redneck who was furious that Lance, a mere accountant, had driven the firetruck. He had his own cigarette in his lips when Lance strolled in, proud as a lion, but it dropped to the ground as he snarled in rage.
“You redneck dumb fuck!” Chief Kettle picked up the cigarette he dropped and put it back between his lips.
Lance stopped short, proudful smile draining away. Chief Kettle jabbed a finger at Yoder and ignored Lance, but Lance still took it personally. He knew as well as anyone that he was not certified to drive the firetruck, or even the chief’s emergency vehicle, which was just a jeep with sirens.
“You know how much trouble we’d be in if he got in an accident? Our insurance wouldn’t cover it,” Chief Kettle said. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed at Yoder. “It would have bankrupted this station. We’d have been uninsurable.”
“I’m sorry, Chief. He called my girl a slut and he already fucked her one time, before we were together, and he said-“
“Don’t fill my head with ya silly trailer-hick drama, Yoder,” Chief Kettle said. “You could’ve ended this station. You let a fuckin’ accountant drive the firetruck. A sissy-ass accountant…” He turned to Lance, who blushed. “Nothing personal, Lance. You’re a great accountant and all… Nothin’ wrong with being a sissy neither.” He shifted his weight on his feet as though he wasn’t quite sure of that last part but was too polite to say it.
Lance stammered, his shyness preventing him from formulating any response. He blushed. He never met to come across as a sissy. He couldn’t deny there was a flare of truth in it. He may not have had a lisp and a limp wrist, but he wasn’t a big tough guy like the firemen. He worked out but never got bulky like they did.
“I’m sorry, suh, Chief Kettle.” Yoder hung his head and rolled his eyes when they were aimed at the ground.
“I dunno if that’s good enough this time,” Chief Kettle said. “This ain’t the first time you let someone else drive the truck.”
“That wasn’t-“
“Shut up! You let ya girl drive the truck, then you get in a fight in the station and let an accountant drive it? Yoder… Our insurance requires me to fire you.” Chief Kettle crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t got any discretion on this.”
“Jerry…”
“Don’t you gimme that,” Chief Kettle said. He left the station then so he could get in the firetruck that Lance had left parked out on the street. The reversing beeps began as he backed the truck into the station.
Conversation back at the station died down. Nobody made eye contact with Yoder, who stared at his feet. Lance was extremely shy, flushed and nervous. Yoder was short for a fireman, but he was a ropy-muscled spitfire of a man, his filthy-blond hair like dirty sand arranged in an almost mullet with an outright rattail sticking out the back. His powerhouse frame was scrawny even where it was thick — you could tell he would be more muscular if he focused on eating enough protein. The muscles he had were bursting out of him, which was why his punches knocked out Walter, who was a prettyboy maybe eighty pounds heavier than Yoder.
Lance wasn’t surprised. Yoder was the kind of redneck whose machismo and muscles and outgoing nature made him popular in high school, successful in the Army, an active member of his church, and a well-respected volunteer firefighter.
The truck rolled to a stop inside the station. The other firefighters in the back of the truck jumped off and removed their gear, while Chief Kettle and Yoder stood near the front of the truck. Lance hoped to melt into the background so he wasn’t seen. He no longer felt like a hero for driving the truck. It sure felt like he had sabotaged Yoder’s career.
A long fat pause sat between Yoder, whose face vacillated between genuine regret and proudly stubborn. Yoder’s upper lip even quivered.
“I ain’t gonna fire you, Yoder. I need you,” Kettle said.
“Oh thank god. I need this, Jerry,” Yoder said in his big drawly voice. “I… I don’t got a lot in my life right now. I need this. Don’t take it away from me.”
“You gotta prove to me that you’re really dedicated by not doing stupid shit.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’m done behaving like that. I’ll do whatevuh you want to prove it, suh, Chief Kettle, suh,” Yoder said.
“You don’t gotta do nothin’, just act better-“
“No, I will. I’ll show my dedication… You were in the Marines, right? You know the bend-over promise?”
“What?” Kettle wrinkled his nose. “You weren’t a Marine.”
Lance wasn’t sure what that was either. He also wasn’t sure that either one remembered that he was even there. He stood beside the firetruck, feeling like a third wheel (or, given where he was, a ninth wheel). He thought if he walked away, Kettle might put more and more of the blame on him. Lance was just a volunteer accountant, he was replaceable, more replaceable than an experienced firefighter.
“I was Army, but Marines did the same thing. I guess they ain’t do that back in your day,” Yoder said. He sighed. “My sergeant used to make us do this thing, when we wanted special treatment, like an extra day of leave, or getting away with hair past regulation length. It was… I only did it a few times.”
“What the fuck is you talking about, Yoder?” Chief Kettle’s broad cheeks was still red, looked like he was too mad to think about Yoder’s words.
“He called it a bend-over promise. He said if you really need something, you’ll be willing to bend over to get it.” Yoder gulped. “Y’know, bend over and grab your ankles.”
A long, awkward silence filled the firetruck. Lance’s mind whirred — the only thing he could think of was that Yoder was offering to get it up the ass to show his devotion. What else could ‘bend over’ be implying? But surely that wasn’t right.
“You what?” Chief Kettle chuckled. “I guess the Army ain’t changed all that much. Y’all is the same as you ever was. The Corps wasn’t as crude in my day. We called that a ‘lavender promise’. I never did it. I could handle just the leave I was allowed to take-“
“Well, I couldn’t, alright,” Yoder snapped down. “Lemme do this. It’ll prove I deserve to stay.”
“I already said I wasn’t gonna fire you. Besides, I got a wife, Yoder. I got no reason to ram up a man’s backdoor.”
“But you believe you should fire me. You believe I ain’t really devoted to this station, and you ain’t gonna give me a full-time position like that,” Yoder said. He turned to Lance and flashed a nervous grin. “I guess it’s your lucky day, Lance.”
Lance blushed. Surely, he thought, I’ve misunderstood what’s going on. But Yoder, dressed in his fireman pants and suspenders over a plain white t-shirt, crawled into the backsweat of the firetruck and motioned for Lance to join him.
Chief Kettle cackled up Lance’s face. “You look like a pig who just found out mud is worth its weight in gold, Lance, but you too horny to say nothin’, huh?” He didn’t even give Lance a chance to respond, he turned right to Yoder. “How many times you done this, Yoder?”
“Four,” Yoder said. “But don’t tell no one. This ain’t gonna be that bad. Those other four times I got plowed by my sergeant, who was big and mean and, uh… Nothin’ personal, Lance, but you ain’t as big as him. I guarantee that!” He whooped and laughed.
Blushing, Lance nodded and mumbled something about appreciating the male form, which he did. That wasn’t why he climbed up into the back of the firetruck can though. He did that because he wanted to blow a nut up a fireman’s behind.
It proved to be awkward in the cramped confines of the back of the firetruck. Yoder’s tall body took up a lot of space, especially as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and Army tattoos. Lance was already rock-hard even before he had taken his own clothes off.
The smell of Yoder’s unwashed armpits filled the truck cab. He was sweaty by nature, sweaty from the exertion of the fight, sweaty from fear that he would be fired. His zesty musk was so thick in the cab that Lance could taste it.
“You really doing this? You know this technically breaks the rules too, right, Yoder?” Chief Kettle said with a snicker. “Our insurance company only allows the trucks to be used for valid firefighting purposes-“
Yoder sighed. “Shut the fuck up, Jerry. Everything is against some rule or anothuh,” he said. “Yes, I is really doing this. You’ll know how devoted I am to this station.”
“A’ight, le’ssee it.”
Yoder had his fireman pants still on, but unattached, so they hung low enough that his pubic hair was visible. Lance unzipped his fly, then hesitated, not sure if Yoder was ready or even if this was all a prank.
But still glaring intently at Kettle, Lance bent over in the back seat of the firetruck, fished Lance’s cock out through his fly and opened his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed before swallowing Lance’s dick to the root.
Lance gasped. An explosion of intense sensations arose from his crotch, and he sucked in his breath. He knew this was coming, but still, he was shocked. A part of him thought Yoder would back out or would say that he had demonstrated his willingness to do so but didn’t need to actually do it. He could have just let Lance jerk him off, that would have been favor enough, and all the firemen knew Lance would do that if they wanted.
But instead he turned the tables and his massive body took Lance’s dick in his mouth.
He was so well-muscled that his shoulders alone took up the entire space in front of Lance’s chest. When Lance reached out to touch him, Yoder’s pecs twitched like he was ticklish and his back muscles all flexed at once. The positioning was awkward, but that just made it even sexier. Lance could barely grope his entire chest because Yoder was wedged in front of him, between Lance and the passenger seat. Yoder loudly suckled on Lance’s pulsating shaft, which rocketed right to a speedy erection.
Sparks of pleasure flew through Lance’s body, and he couldn’t stop gasping. His hand gripped Yoder by the rattail and mullet on the back of his head, and the greasy sweat of his hair reawakened the musk he exuded in the truck.
Precum flowed from Lance’s dick, and the taste made Yoder subdue a gag. Lance blushed as Chief Kettle chuckled nervously — it wasn’t clear whether he laughed at Lance’s surprised reaction or Yoder’s loud moaning, like he was so disgusted he could barely manage to keep going. Despite that, he didn’t slow down at all, and he even spat copious spit onto Lance’s dick, like he was an expert at this.
Given that he had done it in the Army multiple times, Lance thought, maybe Yoder was an expert at it.
Lance threw his head back, embarrassed at how enthused his reaction was. With his dick getting ready to shoot its load down Yoder’s gullet, he couldn’t help but grip and moan and rub and grind more passionately than anyone he had ever been with. He held onto Yoder’s head as he rode his throat like a porn star.
Yoder smiled wanly when he finally pulled off, long strings of spit connecting his lips to Lance’s shaft. “Hey, at least you ain’t Sergeant Powers. That man was ruthless. He used to plow my throat, talk about turning my tonsils into a clitoris and shit,” he said. He wiped spit off his face. “But it definitely proved I really really needed an extra day off, to get a girl — there was this one stripper who-“
“Quit gabbin’ and give up the booty!” Chief Kettle said with a snicker.
“Man…” Yoder shook his head and sighed.
Yoder bent over the seats in the back, and shimmied his fireman pants down. The fabric was so thick and heavy that his thighs were dappled with sweat, matting the hair to his muscles. His ass, now that it was bare, was trembling and pale, perfectly plump. Lance smacked one cheek without giving it a second thought.
“Woo-hoo!” Chief Kettle said, laughing. “You treat him right, boy, like that stripper you was tryin’-a fuck! Damn hoot, I bet you get promoted to captain of the accountants fo’ this, huh?”
“I don’t think that’s how accountants work, Chief,” Yoder said. He was bent over with his face in Lance’s lap, licking Lance’s cockshaft and shuddering as he tasted precum. Lance blushed, trying to think of something witty to say, but all he could focus on was his own dick spasming and pulsating. He was on the verge of cumming already.
He wanted more than anything to get his dick in Yoder’s ass. A part of him still thought Yoder would back out, that he wouldn’t go quite this far. But Lance had to try. Yoder’s ass was in position, or a close as was possible in the space they had.
Lance pulled away from Yoder’s face and climbed overtop him — literally mounting his broad shoulders and back like he was crawling over a hill. His moist cock and balls dragged along Yoder’s muscled back, and the friction very nearly sent Lance over the edge. Precum smeared over Yoder’s spine.
At last he was in position, cock wedged between Yoder’s asscheeks. They were tight, and the hole twinkled, resisting Lance’s cock. Yoder trembled nervously and buried his face in his own forearm, ready to bite down.
Luckily Lance’s dick was well-lubed with Yoder’s spit. When he pushed it into Yoder’s hole, Yoder spasmed and sucked on his teeth. He bit down on his tattooed forearm.
His asshole clenched, then relaxed, and Lance’s cock slid deeply in. Lance sucked in his breath just like Yoder did, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Bliss coursing through his veins, Lance found his cock sinking in deeper and deeper, as Yoder’s ass squeezed an orgasm out of his sensitive shaft.
“Well, damn, I ain’t think you was gonna do this,” Chief Kettle said. He chuckled nervously and wrinkled his nose.
As he worked his dick in inch by inch, intense pleasure ran through Lance’s veins. Yoder’s ass was tight, hot and moist. He felt like intact, presumably because he hadn’t been plowed since that drill sergeant back in his Army days.
“Ah, damn, you don’t feel like an accountant when ya dick is in my ass, boy!” Yoder cackled before the motion made him erupt in pain again, and his whole body tensed up.
Lance’s hands massaged Yoder’s back, kneading the muscular flesh there. He wanted this to feel good for Yoder, not that there was any chance Yoder would choose to do it again. He kissed the tattoos of thorny roses and military crests that dotted Yoder’s broad back.
He felt tiny in comparison to Yoder, whose back was broad as an ox and firm as one too. His muscles flexed, curvy lines appearing in spots where Lance had no idea there were muscles. Yoder was in good shape, even compared to the other firefighters.
Every few thrusts were strong enough to make Yoder clench, tightening his asshole around Lance’s cock as though trying to hold onto him by it. Yoder frowned and even howled, the sound resonating in the cab of the firetruck.
Outside, in the station, Lance heard some of the other firemen come back into the garage. They checked the equipment they had used on the call, making sure it was ready for the next trip. Lance froze with his dick deep in Yoder’s guts. Both Yoder and Lance fell silent, Yoder still seething and Lance resisting his orgasm. Outside the truck Chief Kettle stayed silent, blocked by the truck from being seen by the other firefighters.
“Where’d Yoder go? He came back with us, didn’t he?”
“I thought so, but maybe he went somewhere with Chief Kettle.”
“So that accountant was driving us back with no one else up there in the cab?”
“Guess so. Can you believe Yoder punched Walter? Chief Kettle probly bent him over and plowed him. That’s how rednecks do it y’know.”
Chief Kettle chuckled. He glanced out the window, but didn’t say anything to the firefighters out there. Lance’s heart pounded, which he knew was silly — he was the only person who couldn’t be punished if he was caught. But he would be ashamed if the other firefighters knew what he was doing in here. He moved slowly, grinding his dick in as Yoder winced and gnawed on his own arm.
Despite Yoder’s apparent discomfort, Lance sensed pleasure emanating from deep within him. Yoder tried to hide it, but Lance could feel it in his soft, smooth sighs when Lance withdrew his dick and his cooing grunts when Lance hit his prostate.
“That’s how cockheads do it, ya mean. But that’s okay, Kettle is both a redneck and a cockhead.”
Their voices faded as they headed towards the door to the station, apparently satisfied that all the hoses and other gear on the truck were in their proper places. Yoder breathed easier now.
“Yoder’s gear is still gone, ain’t in his locker. He must be with Kettle. Prolly gettin’ chewed out.”
“Yoder’s a fucking redneck too. So’s Walter, so I can’t really hold that against him.”
“So are you, Taney.”
“Fuck you, man-“
The door slammed shut before Lance could hear how their argument ended. He knew from experience that they probably continued arguing and eventually came close to fighting but didn’t actually do it. He was glad to have privacy again, and he began plowing with renewed vigor.
After all that, Yoder was much looser and more accepting of Lance’s dick. He groaned smoothly, relaxing his ass the best he could. He still grimaced each time Lance’s cock hit its apex deep within him, but it was clear that he felt more pleasure than pain. Lance didn’t have much experience on top, especially topping a burly redneck much bigger than he was, but he knew well how to make it feel good for both he and Yoder.
As his orgasm approached, Lance wished he could prolong this, but he knew Yoder wouldn’t put up with it forever. And besides that, Lance wasn’t sure he could prevent himself from cumming. He had never cornholed a powerhouse firefighter like this, and it was the most incredible experience of his life.
When his orgasm finally hit, Lance lost control of his body. He collapsed onto Yoder’s back, gnawing and sucking at his skin, which made Yoder chuckle awkwardly. Yoder bit down on his teeth as pain overwhelmed him, and he grunted out loud.
“Damn, you likin’ this, boy…”
Cum flowed into Yoder’s ass, great creamy gobs of it bursting up his guts, and pleasure erupted in Lance. It wracked his spine, making Lance twist and writhe atop Yoder’s back. He gasped, squealing right into Yoder’s meaty flesh; the sound made Yoder and Chief Kettle laugh.
“Hot hell, you do sound like a girl, Lance,” Chief Kettle said. Yoder made a sound that may have been a yes he does but just sounded like an agonized yelp. So much cum filled Yoder’s ass that he couldn’t even form any words.
Lance lay there, contorting as his dick fell soft within Yoder’s body. He felt too weak to get up, especially in comparison to Yoder’s tensed muscles. He nuzzled his nose in Yoder’s flesh.
Finally he realized Yoder was not going to accept this much longer. For now he was just laying there, holding his breath as he waited for Lance to finish. Lance pulled out and they both breathed a sigh of relief — Lance’s was a smooth exhalation, while Yoder rolled his eyes and grunted. His muscles finally relaxed all at once.
Lance rolled off him, dick flopping out of Yoder’s ass. Lance squeezed into the tiny space between the back and the driver’s seat. Yoder’s sweat-moistened t-shirt was right there on the floor, and Lance had a sudden urge to sniff it. One of the things he loved most about volunteering here was that he could see the firefighters in their underclothes and occasionally even caught a whiff of their sweaty armpits.
But sensing that this was an opportunity to do it without judgement, Lance grabbed the t-shirt. He inhaled deeply of Yoder’s musk, while the other two gasped as though they had never heard of anything so gross. Then Yoder guffawed, stopping only when he sat up and winced due to the pain in his tender ass.
“Ha, how’s that smell, Lance?”
“So good…” Lance blushed a bright red. His love for sweat was so personal to him he had never admitted it.
“Keep it,” Yoder said weakly, grimacing at the pain in his ass. He stayed on his side as he struggled to get his underwear back on in the cramped rear of the truck cab.
Lance smiled. “Okay, thanks,” he said. He felt too weak to climb out of the truck, so he just watched as Chief Kettle turned the seat down so Yoder could climb out as well. He still wore nothing but his underwear, carrying the fireman pants as he went. He stretched his sore thighs when he was finally out of the truck.
“You believe I’m devoted to this station now, Chief?”
“I do, I absolutely believe it,” Chief Kettle said. He turned to Lance, who still sat in the back of the truck. “You coming?”
Lance nodded. “Just… Gimme a minute. I gotta recover.”